


Face of a prom queen, mind of a killer//phan

by Snazzy Jacket (BubblegumDays)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Emotions, M/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 14:50:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16088333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubblegumDays/pseuds/Snazzy%20Jacket
Summary: A phan fic where Dan is a model with a darker side and Phil is a photographer who just wants a little excitement.Sorry that this is really bad... I can't write for shit but I hope it's fine...Warnings: Murder, violence, blood and that's it for now, I will update as it goes on.





	1. Prologue

From what he could remember his mind hadn't always been like this. It used to be filled with innocence and childlike curiosity, a drastic contrast to the sadistic, bloodlustful thoughts that passed through and festered in the years to come.

He had been in the lens of a camera since before he could stand, supposedly having a perfect, doll-like face and being naturally photogenic.

At the beginning he was completely oblivious to everything, simply staring into the camera and blabbering like any other toddler while people took photos for product advertisements he still had never heard of.

He was still unsure of why his parents had sent him to a public school and he wasn't sure if he was glad or not considering how it had aided him in discovering the dark, unexplored corners of his mind.

The earliest memories he still held onto by thin, fading strands were of walking through yellow tinted hallways full of chattering school students, feeling completely disconnected from those around him and knowing there was something different about himself.

People loved him and wanted to be his friend, mainly for the simple status of being friends with a model, and he would let them, faking belonging smiles, gradually feeling more and more distant from his classmates but by said point expertly faking emotions.

Memories of staring off into far corners of classrooms picturing the people around him attempting to hold feeble conversations bloodied and strewn across the cheap, dirty, blue carpet.

Flashing images of knives stabbing into the joyful faces of those who should have been the ones with ulterior motives.

The fantasies had scared him at first, mental pictures of what should have been wrong and lead his mind to stray further from regular society and eventually accept the grim mentality and how he would never fully fit in.

It had felt like he was going crazy, and he liked most of it. During daylight hours those fantasies kept him going with a skip in his step and the pocket knife tucked secretly into the pocket of his jeans but plagued his restless mind on his own in the dark leaving his crying softly into the bland, designer covers of his bed as shouts echoed from downstairs.

By the end of high school, Dan had no sanity left to lose, standing in a long black gown and odd looking hat, waiting to graduate on the verge of cracking and murdering every single one of the thousands present.

A memory which stood out as a major highlight of his dull life was blurry and lacking details other than blood stained clothes and the knife plunging into one of those foolish enough to cross his path as he entered the cracked side of his mind.

And with a quick change of clothes and a fake panicked expression as he told a person who only expected to act as a manager about a dead body crumpled against a toilet stall he got away with murder.

It never even crossed anyone's mind that innocent little Dan could have done any such thing leaving him to get away as the only one with the knowledge that he had killed them.

 


	2. ~O N E~

Phil wasn't entirely sure how he'd got into photography. It had most likely begun as an escape from his painfully bland life in a small, colourless town which eventually blossomed into a degree and a career through years that simply blurred together into a mesh of confusion.

All he wanted was a little excitement, no matter the consequences, but he didn't know where to find it and had pretty much given up, coming home each night to the same routine only to leave again the next morning to repeat the same day for 2 years straight, gradually driving him crazy.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking his attention from the city night sky urging him to check his phone. It had been an email, one he didn't deem too important on the surface, a simple job offer of which he would most likely take up regardless, but what properly caught his attention was the pay.

"£1000?... an hour?..." He whispered quietly to himself in disbelief, only ever seeing figures like that after working overtime.

He quickly typed out a response, solidifying the deal without even checking whether he was free on the day.

~time skip~

He arrived at the photo shoot half an hour early, going into the Starbucks situated at the end of the street and buying a drink just to pass the time since, to his knowledge, no one was there yet.

A posh black car with tinted windows parked just within his field of vision making him roll his eyes on instinct, knowing that was probably the model and that they were most likely a stuck up spoilt brat, but that wasn't enough to put him off.

The driver side door opened first, a man of unremarkable hight in all black and sunglasses stepped out, shutting the door behind him before opening the door to the back, most likely being hired to do so, further solidifying that the person would be a snob.

Out stepped a tall boy, around his age, maybe a little younger, who wore much more casual clothing than he expected, simple black skinny jeans and a black and white striped sweater that could easily have passed as a person of average wealth and a doll-like face. He said something to the other man but from where Phil was standing he couldn't tell what it was.

They started walking towards the building snapping Phil from his trance, turning back down to his phone, deciding they still could be obnoxious.

The two men made no attempt to ask why he was outside the building and simply went on by the taller one pulling a phone from his pocket that made Phil's look ancient despite it only being a few generations younger while the one that was probably his bodyguard simply stood in silence.

Eventually, the silence was broken by 2 black vans pulling up in front of the building, catching the others attention when a snobby looking woman in a pencil skirt and tight greying bun got out as well as a few other people who seemed intentionally insignificant by the way they were dressed and their neutral robot-like faces.

The woman coughed loudly, catching everyone's attention before speaking "Right." She started, walking over to Phil "I'm assuming you're Philip Lester?" She asked in a way that sounded more like a statement than a question.

"Yeah..." Phil replied just before she turned to the other two, one of which looking alert and ready to punch someone at any moment while the other simply stood staring off into the distance like someone could punch him and it would take him a moment to notice.

"Daniel." She said firmly to the boy making him visibly jump a little."Come this way everyone." She commanded sternly, unlocking the door and briskly making her way inside pursued by a small crowd of reluctant employees.

The building was nothing special, a convention hall meant for small parties and the occasional gathering. A few of the people started setting up for a photo shoot by putting up the backdrop and lights while the woman who was most likely the director pulled out a chair and shouted at them about none sense while Dan and Phil were left standing in silence.

Phil turned to look at the man next to him to find him once more staring off at a distant wall, completely dissociated from reality and in his own little world. He didn't dare speak up in fear of him having some kind of superiority complex or a sensitive ego so simply stared, forgetting how it wasn't considered socially acceptable.

He looked even more perfect up close, he knew it was most likely makeup but that was all he had to go off. The expression on his face was distant as if they were on two different planes of existence and he was staring up longingly into someone's eyes and not at a wall.

Something about him intrigued Phil, something he was still unsure of yet somehow it was right in his face. A strange twinkle caught Dan's eye, one Phil couldn't quite recognise, an emotion he hadn't yet encountered for long enough to properly notice.

Dan appeared to snap from his trance, turning towards Phil, blushing slightly since he hadn't even noticed Phil. "Oh!...H-hi, I- I'm Dan" He spat out, tumbling over his words as if they were a foreign language he'd never spoken before.

Phil couldn't help but chuckle slightly before replying "Hi, I'm Phil, nice to meet you." He greeted warmly, holding out his hand for Dan to either reject or shake. To his surprise he simply shook it as if it was motion he had practised and perfected over years and years.

Before either of them could say any more the stern woman yelled Phil's name, commanding him to come over to set up his camera equipment, cutting herself off by yelling at someone about how they'd put something in the wrong place, completely switching trains of thought.

Phil smiled at Dan apologetically, turning to walk over to where he needed to be, making a start on setting up the necessary camera, making sure all the right lenses and settings were functioning correctly.

Dan stayed put, face blank and expressionless, eyes fixed on Phil, scattered thoughts ranging from simple acknowledgement of how the way he styled his hair suited him and his general physique to how much nicer he would look with a knife in his chest slumped against a wall.

Time practically didn't exist to him, mere minutes could feel like anywhere between hours or just seconds in his fucked up head leaving him untethered to reality, drifting in his own mind, blissfully unaware of what was going on around him.

Someone tapping his shoulder broke him from his trance-like state, a bored seeming girl in her early 20's dressed in all black, holding a clipboard and chewing a bit of gum who simply addressed him by pointing towards a box with the clothes he had to advertise and then to a side door labeled 'dressing rooms' just off to the left from the stage with her pen, hardly looking up.

He nodded, picking up the box and heading into the dressing room with the label 'Daniel Howell' blu-tacked to the door, letting his expression fall knowing no one could see him, sighing as he opened the box to find yet another trendy brand he would never wear by choice.

Despite doing this so many times it still annoyed him to simply having to dress up and pose as a job, instead wanting a regular job, a normal life, a remotely sane mind.

He smiled at himself in the mirror, either to reassure himself of something he had no idea of or just fear he hid even from the forefront of his head, focusing solely on the darker elements, ignoring the anxiety eating away at him for what he had done and could do.

The lights were almost blinding in the hall compared to the single stream of natural light filtering in through a high window and a dim light bulb hanging from the damp ceiling that made little to no difference.

He had become so accustomed to the routine of photoshoots that he didn't even have to hear to know what people were saying, it was like he'd been brainwashed but still had the ability to think freely that he secretly wished he was incapable of.  

Reality was bland and repetitive in his mind, each day tipping him closer to the edge, the edge of what, he wasn't sure, but he welcomed it with open arms, smiling for cameras and wearing clothes that never quite fit right, sagging at the cuffs but cutting blood circulation elsewhere in the meanwhile.

If you asked him how the photoshoot went anything that left his lips would have been a lie, every single one blurred together as if he'd blacked out for hours on end no matter how enthusiastic he appeared to be on the surface, body on autopilot and head in the clouds.

A break didn't come soon enough, collapsing into a chair and taking out his phone to hopefully avert anyone who would try to talk to him, which unfortunately didn't work because a moment later Phil came and sat down in the chair next to his own.

He didn't say a word, doing the same by taking his own phone and checking various notifications. Dan's mood seemed to change like someone flipped a switch inside his head, suddenly having some odd want to mess with the pretty presence beside him, head still completely clouded but slightly less oblivious to everything around him.

"Hey!" Dan greeted, smiling as genuinely as he could muster, catching Phil of guard a little since he'd been so quiet for the whole time, staring off and stuck in his mindscape.

"Hi." Phil replied, smiling back, the difference being genuine happiness on his own, a drastic contrast to the self-trained fake expression adorning the others face.

It started as an ingenuine conversation about the shoot and their careers that eventually progressed into a shamefully genuine one about similar music interests and previous life experiences, most from Dans end embellished heavily.

Dan struggled not to get attached, unprepared to ever talk to anyone with such a charming personality and wit, a buried part of his mind wanting to talk to him more and maybe even befriend him, something he'd never had any desire to do before, unfamiliar sensations sending him into overdrive, real emotion slipping into his tone, clouds parting slightly for the first time since before he could remember.

Before he knew it, he had Phils Instagram and the second half of the shoot started, actions not coming to him as easily as usual, overwhelmed by new emotions, stumbling slightly trying to do his job properly, secretly relishing in the hint of positive emotion he could feel for once compared to the emptiness and pain filling his head.

He got home that day to his plain, empty apartment, still buzzing slightly with unusual emotion, skipping around his home doing normal things like putting on comfier clothes, putting in a microwave meal since he was too lazy to cook and sitting down on his once pristine sofa he would probably throw out of the window before showing his neat-freak parents.

The happiness seemed to visibly drain from his complexion as the fog rolled back into his mind, denser than before, sending him spiralling back into his psychotic head space, regret for even trying, fear of what could happen.

It felt like he was two people, one encouraging this, wanting more positivity after being drowned out for most of his life and the other wanting to stay how he'd been for years, alone and scared dreaming of bloodied faces and broken bones.

"You're an idiot..." He muttered to himself in the second person "Why would you even try?" He stood up, pacing his living room in annoyance at himself "What's gonna happen now? exactly, you don't know."

He was snapped to attention by the beep of the microwave from the kitchen, sighing before going to get it, hating himself more than usual but somehow still wanting to feel that way somewhere in the back of his broken mind despite the way it makes him feel later on.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably forget I also put this here so my Wattpad it @/snazzyjacket


End file.
